The Last Time
by Lunar1
Summary: Twenty five years in the future SG1 are spread across the galaxy. However, a powerful new enemy draws the team together for one final mission. Please feedback.
1. A Welcome Surprise

Ambassador O'Neill stepped through the Stargate. These days he tended to do most of his travelling by starship and he relished the feeling of his body being pulled this way and that, the icy cold of the infinite biting deeply into his old bones and coating his eyebrows in ice. The ride from the Asguard home wold was longer than most he had experienced when leading SG-1 and he was starting to feel a little nauseous when he was finally expelled, at some velocity, from the event horizon Earth-side. 

He managed to land on his feet, taking the shock of landing by bending aching knees. He failed to suppress the smallest of moans as he hit the ground and he straightened up with a little difficulty, wiping the ice from his face.

"Ambassador," called the General from the control room.

He glanced upwards and smiled, his first real smile in weeks. General Carter beamed back at him, the beautiful blue-eyed smile that he remembered well from his days as her commanding officer. The smile he had fallen in love with.

He pushed that thought to the back of his mind as he saluted the General smartly. Carter had to be pushing sixty now he knew, but she had kept her figure and walked proud and erect; her military training was betrayed by her posture, despite the arthritis she was suffering in her knees and hands. 

"General," he said, "It's been a while."

"Same to you Jack," she replied through the speaker system. A lot had changed at the SGC since his last a year ago. The General brushed a errant strand of steely grey hair from her face with almost girlish self-consciousness; sensing his eyes upon her as she nodded to the Sergeant and headed down the stairs as quickly as her arthritic knees would allow.

He was limping, she realised, as he walked towards her. He enveloped her in his long limbed embrace. "I've got some bad news."

"God Jack," she responded from somewhere in his chest, "I thought it might be a social call."

He released her. "No such luck. Is Daniel around?"

"He's not on base but I can call him in. Are things that bad?" she asked, biting her lip with worry.

"They might be,"he answered grimly, "I won't say anymore until Daniel's here.

It took half an hour for Daniel to get to the base, during which Carter attempted to fill in her ex-CO with everything he had missed in the last year he had been away from Earth.

"...And Cassie is trying for another baby with her husband.... And Daniel's middle daughter graduated last month... and- Oh, here he is."

Daniel smiled broadly at O'Neill. "Jack! Long time no see!"

O'Neill returned the grin, somewhat wanly. Daniel remained apparently unchanged from when he had last seen him; his greying hair now cropped close to his head and his glasses a slightly more streamlined design. "Daniel. How's Sarah? And the kids?"

"Oh we're all fine. Cara graduated last month and Jake's got engaged..." As perceptive as he had ever been in his youth Daniel faltered, sensing the question had been a mere platitude and knowing that there was an underlying issue here that was troubling Jack O'Neill.

It had been a year since they had last seen the Ambassador, but Daniel suspected the extra creases and general blanching of Jack's face had a cause other than twelve more months on the clock. 

He coughed. "Anyway... what brings you back to Earth?"

O'Neill gestured to the briefing table. "Take a seat."

He placed an oval crystal in the centre of the briefing table. It glowed eerily for a moment and then the holographic images stored within it began to play.

Thor seemed to rise up from the crystal, in miniature. "Greetings General Carter, Doctor Jackson. I have sent this message with O'Neill in the hope I might persuade you to accompany him on a mission of some urgency."

The image changed, flickering, to show a planet, similar in appearance to Earth with swirling white clouds obscuring a surface of green and blue. 

"This is Borash. Its inhabitants are an advanced race with technology comparable to our own. Extremely xenophobic in nature since the defeat of the Go'auld they have become increasingly concerned with the human expansion across the galaxy. Their empire borders our own territories and they have launched several attacks on our ships, possibly due to our alliance with many humans across the galaxy.

"We have managed to secure negotiations with the Borash commencing in one weeks time. The expertise of General Carter, Daniel Jackson and Teal'c we believe is essential if the negotiations are to reach as satisfactory conclusion. A ship is ready in orbit if you decide to accompany the Ambassador."

The image faded and for a moment there was silence around the table. 

"So. Just like old times," Daniel said quietly, peering at the stone over steepled fingers, "The four of us off on a mission to save Earth."

"You don't have to give an answer now," O'Neill said, with a shrug, "You should talk it over with Sarah first. I mean, it could be dangerous."

Daniel looked as if he was about to argue but Carter cut across his response. "What does Thor mean, 'the expertise of General Carter.' What do you need us for Jack?"

O'Neill gave her a grey look. "Carter, there's likely to be a technological exchange. You'll have to analyse stuff. You know what I'm like with technical... stuff. And there'll be cultural exchanges too, and treaties to be written in different languages. Especially as the Asguard computers have a real problem translating Borashian language. And I thought we ought to have Teal'c along because he's the only one of us old timers who would be any use in close combat if things got hairy."

There was more silence, longer this time, more thoughtful.

"Count me in," said Carter after a moment.

"Me too," Daniel added a second later; his face set and both of the soldiers knowing better than to argue.

"Well. Looks like we have a go. Be ready to ship out by 0900 tomorrow morning," O'Neill said, almost wistfully.

"I have to go an argue with my wife now," Daniel said after a moment. "I'll see you all tomorrow morning."

"Bye Daniel."

"Bye."

The door clicked shut behind him. Carter met O'Neill's eyes, their penetrative aspect. Not dimmed by age and sharpened by the thinning of his face (not to mention hair).

"Uh. Are you... busy... tonight?" he asked after a moment.

"I have a few goodbyes to say," she returned.

"So dinner would be... out of the question...?"

"What time do you want me to pick you up?" she said, grinning devilishly.

"Excuse me? You pick up me..? I don't think so."

"You don't have a valid driving licence under the new legislation," she informed him archly, "So I think I might have to do the driving."

"I hate you," he said, mirroring her smile.

"I know."

*

The restaurant was expensive and she suspected that Jack had spoken to Daniel before booking a table here; she'd eaten here once before with Cassie and her husband and had remarked how much she liked the place. He pulled the chair back for her to sit down.

"You look great Sam," he said quietly as he sat down opposite and she felt her insides contract for a moment, and felt ridiculous.

"I'm getting old Jack," she responded, almost sadly, "Have you spoken to Cassie?" she added, desperate to change the subject. 

He sighed. "Nothing changes, does it Sam?"

"What?" she asked, wrong-footed.

"It doesn't matter. And yes, I've spoken to her." He paused for a moment, fiddling with the menu. "Daniel said you liked it here."

"Yeah. I came here with Cassie and her husband a few weeks ago. It was nice food."

"Good."

There was an uncomfortable silence, filled with the chatter of other diners. A passing waiter, noticing their stillness paused at the table, notebook ready and pen poised.

"Would you like to order drinks, sir? Madam?" he asked, his tone light and friendly; his weariness betrayed by his eyes.

"Yeah. I'll have a beer," O'Neill said.

"And for you madam?"

"Just water please," Carter replied.

"Sparkling or still?"

"Still."

He hurried away, leaving Carter shifting uncomfortably under O'Neill's intense gaze. He appeared to reach a decision. He took her hand, resting lightly on the pristine white table cloth, in his own. She relished the warmth of his fingers as he stroked the protruding knuckles, slightly bunched with age and arthritis, of her hand.

"You thinking of retiring anytime soon?" he asked, talking to her hand and not her face.

"Why do you ask that?" she enquired, confused again.

He met her eyes and she wished he hadn't. Time was suppose to dull any pain, but not the one reflected in the brown pools boring into her. "Because I'm lonely," he replied frankly.

Words died in her throat and for a moment she felt like she might start crying. The waiter interrupted again, bearing their drinks on a tray, asking them if they were ready to order their food. She ordered unthinkingly, the same thing she had eaten before, her eyes never leaving Jack O'Neill's haggard face. 

The waiter backed off and she spoke. "Lonely?"

"I miss you. All of you old timers. But you mostly. Thor keeps me busy, I gotta give the guy that. But still..."

"I have been thinking of retiring," she confessed. "Daniel keeps trying to talk me into it. I think he wants us all to retire off world somewhere, but Sarah will never let him do it. Their kids are here after all and you know... she wants to see her grandchildren, when they come. I don't blame her."

"After what she went through..? Me neither."

There was another pause. Their table's candle snuffed out suddenly as it reached the end of the wick, a plume of smoke stretching upwards; somewhat allegorically Carter thought for a moment.

"When did we get so old?" she whispered, more to herself and the candle than her companion.

"I don't know," he murmured, "I looked the other way and time caught up with me."

"With all of us."

Their food arrived, providing them with a distraction. 

"My digestive system doesn't deal with dessert too well these days," Carter lied as she put down her cutlery. 

"Mine neither," O'Neill gratefully agreed. He stood up, a little awkwardly. "I'll pay the bill."

They walked out together into the cool night air, arm in arm, for comfort or support neither of them could really say. Carter's car was parked on the far edge of the lot and O'Neill stopped in front of it, turning her around to face him. "What would you do, if you retired?" he asked softly.

She shrugged. "I have no idea."

His gnarled hand stroked her cheek, softened with age but still quite smooth. Gently, he leaned inwards and kissed her on the mouth. She pulled away after a second. "People can see us."

"I don't care."

"They'll be disgusted at old people kissing."

"That's their problem."

"You still love me, don't you?" It wasn't an accusation. More a statement of fact. Age, Carter had learnt, takes away many things. Beauty was one of them. Your illusions was another, for the most part.

"Yes." He looked away for a moment. "Is that so wrong?"

"No. I still love you," she replied, hugging him instinctively. "We messed up really, didn't we?"

"No," he replied, wrapping his long arms around her, "I don't think so. We saved the world. Repeatedly. We had some good times together, and we're both still doing jobs we love, despite being hideously elderly."

She chuckled at his joke, enjoying his embrace. "I meant us. We. We should have... we shouldn't have let it end like this."

"Like what?"

"Stop being deliberately dense. You know what I mean."

"You mean, end with us apart."

"Yeah."

"Yeah. It was a bad choice. But I thought you were going to marry Pete. I thought you were going to get the happy ending you deserved."

"Well, I didn't," she said, without a trace of bitterness.

"No. You didn't. I never knew why."

"Yes you did. You just never said," she replied, smiling despite herself.

"I thought.... I hoped... It was because you still loved me." His voice cracked slightly.

She made no reply to that. "...And I never found anyone else," she said distantly.

"Neither did I."

"And now we're both old and lonely."

He let go of her, facing her once more again in the darkness. "We don't have to be."

"What, old or lonely?" she asked.

"Well, I don't know about the first. But we don't have to be lonely. Retire. Come and be with me. And Thor."

"Do you come as a package now?"

"No," he answered, smiling stupidly.

"I'm too old Jack. *You're* too old."

"You're never too old."

"What would be the point, after all these years?"

"We wouldn't be lonely anymore."

There was more silence.

She sighed. "If I was twenty years younger..."

"You'd still be thinking about your career," he informed her and she chuckled.

"I suppose so." She unlocked the car. "Coming back to mine for a coffee?"

  
  



	2. The Journey Begins

It was shocking, to see Daniel and Carter standing next to the Teal'c. It wasn't as if the Jaffa hadn't aged, because he obviously had; there were creases around his eyes and a slightly leathered look to his hands that seemed synonymous with old age, but he had aged at a far slower rate than any of the rest of them. Without his symbiote O'Neill had kind of expected that Teal'c would start aging normally. But he was wrong. Teal'c looked about forty.

"It is good to see you O'Neill," Teal'c said, gripping his arm warmly. O'Neill winced at the strength of Teal'c's grasp, his old bones protesting. 

"Good to see you too, T," he smiled, "And even better to have you on board." He rubbed his hands together, almost excited. "Now, if Thor managed to follow my instructions my ship should be in orbit..."

"Your ship?" 

"You have a ship?"

"I was not aware that you possessed a ship, O'Neill."

O'Neill met three pairs of surprised eyes. "Did I never say I had a ship?"

"No."

"No."

"Indeed not."

He shrugged. "Okay. I have a ship. It's in orbit. Would you like to *go* to my ship?" he asked.

"Yep."

"Sure."

Teal'c inclined his head.

"Okay," O'Neill replied and pulled a crystal out of his pocket. After a pause he shook it. "Hello?" he said, somewhat hesitantly, to the oval.

There was a beeping noise and O'Neill looked unaccountably relieved. Thor had managed to fulfill his promise and get his diplomatic courier where it was supposed to be, on time too. "Beam us up, Scotty," O'Neill said into the crystal.

Carter snorted with laughter as the transporter beam engulfed them in purple light. She blinked and found herself standing on the bridge of O'Neill's ship.

"Wow," said Daniel, expressing the word flickering in everyone's consciousness. 

The bridge was large, certainly far larger than a Goa'uld transport ship. There were three seats at the helm and a Captain's chair, all facing a view screen which was currently displaying a vista of stars. It was obviously Asguardian in design; purple and silver being the predominant colours and various oval stones adorning panels and walls. 

"What's she called?" asked Carter, slightly hoarse voiced.

A slight colour rose in O'Neill's puckered cheeks. "The Enterprise."

"Trekkie," Daniel chuckled, fingering one of the helm seats.

"Sit down," O'Neill advised, "I'll bring her on line. It's... ooh, maybe six hours journey time so I can fill you in on some of the finer details..." He sat in the Captain's chair, relaxing into the padded seat. He tapped at a control panel on the right arm of the chair. There was a fain hum; the sound of the engines firing.

A headset rose out of a concealed holding in the left arm of the chair, but O'Neill pushed it back down. 

"A neural interface," he explained, seeing Carter's curious look, "Helps with the flying. Not worth it for this journey; the computer can handle it. Bit painful to use the first time but it makes things a little easier."

"I never thought I'd hear Jack the technophobe talking like this," Daniel muttered to Carter and Teal'c.

"Indeed. It seems his time with the Asguard has been most instructive," Teal'c replied. 

"Old dogs can learn new tricks," O'Neill called across, still keying in course calculations and rubbing his neck, stiff from a night on Carter's spare bed. Earth mattresses were severely lacking in the comforts O'Neill had become used to.

The hum of the engines increased in amplitude, and despite the inertial dampeners O'Neill fancied that the Enterprise surged forward. "We're off," he announced.

"So... where are we going?" asked Daniel.

*

"Alright! Okay!" O'Neill said, his temper finally snapping, face screwed up in anger, "It's my fault. But I thought we could handle this. I mean, this sort of thing would never have fazed us in the old days... would it?"

"Jack, you said I had to translate stuff. Which is fine, but I thought there might be some sort of common thread with an Earth language... some basis for me to start from. Now you tell me that the Borash are an amphibious race with a language that doesn't even sound like any humanoid tongue the Asguard have ever encountered!!"

"So you're saying you can't do this? Fine!" O'Neill fumed.

"I didn't say that!"

"That's what it sounded like!" O'Neill paused, fighting to gain control of his temper. "Look, the written language is based on Ancient, because the cradle of the Borash civilisation is an ancient... er, Ancient homeworld. They lived underwater in some sort of Atlantean remains."

There was another, longer, pause. 

"Well. That's a different then. With a written basis I'm sure I can make some headway. If you'd have said that *earlier-- *"

O'Neill was grinning."You didn't give me a *chance* to say it!"

"Yes I di-" 

"Children," Carter cut in gently, "I think that everything is settled."

"O'Neill," Teal'c said suddenly, sharply.

"What?"

"There is something on the view screen."

O'Neill looked up, swore under his breath and ran over to his chair, glancing at the screen and wincing and then yanking his headset out. An alarm started to sound. Ramming it onto his head he swore again, more loudly.

"Everyone stay in the back," O'Neill said tersely, pointing with his thumb to the cargo bay. "Quiet."

From the cargo hold of the ship, barely daring to breath, Carter could only here a muted exchange taking place on the bridge. She heard O'Neill talking quietly, urgently, words indistinguishable until he stopped for a moment and thanked whoever he had been speaking with. He let out a long breath. "You can come out."

They emerged, slightly hesitantly. "Who was it?" asked Daniel.

"A scout ship from a local planetary system. I persuaded them I wasn't a threat," O'Neill replied, pulling off the headset.

"Why did we have to hide?"

"Because this ship emits a false signature, with one life sign. If they saw four of us on screen..."

"Why?" enquired Carter shrewdly, suspecting she already knew the answer.

"Smuggling purposes," O'Neill answered without any trace of shame. "People need to get off a planet sometimes. I'm not adverse to helping the odd person in need get transport out of somewhere. Or animals in one bizarre case..." he trailed off, his face contorted with the frown of remembrance.

Daniel checked his watch. "Still four hours to go," he said. 

"Isn't there... anything to do, on your ship?" Carter asked.

O'Neill grinned again, well aware that Carter knew he had the boredom threshold of a four year old. "Yeah. There's a few entertainment features."

He keyed something in to the computer and the view screen disappeared. It was replaced by a menu. "Let's see now..." said O'Neill, "What do we want to play?" 

The list was huge. "Do you have a copy of every Microsoft game available on here?" Daniel asked suspiciously.

"Yup. And Nintendo. And Playstation."

"How?" asked Carter, intrigued. 

"Thor downloaded them at my request," O'Neill shrugged. "As well as a video library, a picture gallery, a real library of books and some other stuff."

"You've been spoilt rotten," Daniel said, torn between disapproval and jealousy. 

"I don't get to use them much," O'Neill argued back, "But space travel is like a long-distance flight. Made even more boring because you can't watch other people suffer."

"I wish to play Pong, O'Neill," Teal'c informed them. 

"Pong it is then," O'Neill said, "You can have half an hour each...."


	3. In Orbit

Carter tried to sleep on her bed, set up in the hold where they had hidden earlier in the day. The sounds of her three male companions in deep slumber provided a background to her buzzing thoughts. These days she found sleep less easy to come by. She remembered reading somewhere that old people--God, when had she started referring to herself as an old person?-- that old people were more likely to become insomniacs because they needed less sleep; their more sedentary lifestyles and various biological factors causing the reduced need for long hours of sleep. Old people were supposed to enjoy cat-naps throughout the day.

Carter didn't have time to catnap in the day, not as General of the SGC. She suspected that her lack of ability to sleep at night had a lot more to do with that fact that it was only at night, in bed alone, that she had a moment to herself to actually think about things that weren't related to a job in hand.... 

...And then those thoughts would play around her head all night, preventing her from sleeping until the small hours and making her wake up with dark circles under her eyes and a nagging headache. 

There was a snore from Daniel as she shifted position. Asguard mattresses were generated from an energy field and as such their softness could be minutely adjusted. Despite this, she couldn't seem to find a setting she liked. 

She was used to sleeping alone. Maybe that was it, the sounds of people around her that made her unable to drop off. She sighed. It didn't do to dwell on loneliness, and she *wasn't* lonely, not really. Not in the day. She had things to do and people to see. 

But at night there was loneliness. There was the feeling of her life stretching out before her, the past laid out behind and that niggling, repetitive, *incessant* thought. What had she achieved in her life?

In terms of career, quite a lot. She had made the rank of General, commanded the facility that maintained Earth's gateway to the galaxy. She was a friend to a whole host of aliens; she was respected and well liked on Earth as well as off. 

She had raised Cassie through the end of her teenage years and beyond after the death of Janet; seen her go to medical school, and join the Stargate programme. She'd seen her married and with a little luck she should see Cassie and her husband raise *their* children.

But she never had and now never would raise a child of her own. That thought hurt somehow, and she wasn't sure why. She'd never married.

She sighed again. Those two issues were intertwined and the lack of both husband and child was entirely her fault. 

She'd been engaged. Twice. Once to a megalomaniac admittedly, but once to a nice, normal man. Who'd been quite good looking then and still was now, or had been when she'd last seen him, even in his sixties. 

She'd lived with Pete for five years, three and a half as his fiancee. It had, looking back, probably been one of the best times in her life. She'd been happy at home, happy at work.

But then Pete seemed to suddenly become aware that she was rapidly approaching forty and they still weren't married. They'd talked about it and he'd unexpectedly revealed his long held secret desire for two children and a dog, a happy housewife to come home to. Not some half-wild Colonel who risked her life everyday a million miles from where he could protect her. 

She had considered his offer. And something inside her had rebelled. She'd never wanted children as a young woman. Friends had laughed as they started raising their own families, telling her one day she would feel differently; when she had met the right man. As far as she was concerned Pete was that man and yet... she could not bring herself to stop going through the Stargate to be with him. She had no great desire to have his children.

She'd been honest with him and they'd started to argue, and they'd *never* argued. He had demanded her to set a date for their wedding and once again that curious apathy had overcome her. She liked living with Pete, she enjoyed every aspect of their life together.... but she didn't want to be his wife. She couldn't stand the thought of belonging to him.

It hadn't taken long after she'd shouted exactly those words to him in a heated row at two in the morning that Jack O'Neill's name had been mentioned.

Jack had left the base nearly a year previously and she had felt no desire to hide the fact that his departure had hurt her badly. Most people assumed that, like all of O'Neill's other close friends and comrades, she was simply mourning the effective loss of her companion. Those who knew the truth of the depth of feeling between Carter and O'Neill kept their thoughts to themselves and maintained their silence.

The sickening realisation had overtaken her as Pete had said *that* name that if O'Neill was the one doing the asking she would have said yes. Unthinkingly and certainly. 

Not long after that she had walked in through her front door after a particularly bad day at work to find her house half-empty. Pete had gone. She couldn't blame him. 

And she had cried, a lot, some tears for him but mostly for herself and the life she knew she had lost. Cassie had moved back in for a week, for comfort and to help her refurnish. After a while thinking about Pete didn't really hurt anymore, which was a lot more than could be said about thinking about O'Neill.

She'd considered resigning and going to find O'Neill, where-ever he was in the galaxy. He turned up occasionally through the Stargate and consorted with his old friends but never for very long and generally with a gap of at least three years between each appearance. But eventually she had come to the conclusion that it was no longer worth the bother. She concentrated on her career again, on her science. On Cassie and Daniel and Sarah and Teal'c.

Now she was sixty and she had a glittering career, and her relationships with her closest friends were stronger than any she had ever known. For the most part that was enough, but sometimes in the dark of night she still wept for the life she might have known if she had ever resolved her feelings for Jack O'Neill in one way or another. 

And she hated herself for it. She hated the fact that the issue that had dominated her life had been love. She wasn't that kind of woman. She resented that irritating trait some women seemed to develop; the fragile flower syndrome. Women who hid their eyes at horror films and made men carry their bags, who acted powerless in remotely strenuous situations and relied on a man to sort things out. To have allowed unrealised love to have become such a major part of her life, a lasting regret, made her almost feel like one of them.

But she still could not, even thinking those thoughts of self-loathing, even talking sternly to herself in the dead of night, even trying to distract herself and get involved with someone else stop loving O'Neill. 

He still controlled a part of her. That was why she disliked being with him. Because being with him uncorked all these feelings she, for the most part, kept tightly bottled up. Especially when he talked to her about being lonely and asked her to join him with the Asguard. That was bitterly cruel.

She sighed again.

"Carter, if you don't stop sighing like some... some..." O'Neill's whispered voice died away as he tried to think of a suitable illustrative example. 

"Sorry Jack. I can't sleep," she whispered back.

"Me neither."He stood up in the darkness and headed for the door. On impulse she followed him. "Want to talk?" he asked and she nodded.

The view screen illuminated the bridge, casting strange shadows as the planet revolved slowly on screen. First contact with the Borashians had been awkward. The true nature of the translator problems had been starkly illustrated to the three companions of O'Neill and talks had been delayed until Daniel had some time to work on the language problem, and Carter on technological upgrades to the Enterprise that would render translation easy (Thor had thankfully left some instructions).

"I'm kinda nervous about these talks," O'Neill said, sitting in his Captain's chair, head down and hands folded, dangling between his long legs. Skinnier than ever in his old age; the flickering shadows which fell on his face gave him a skull like appearance. It was not hard to deceive herself into thinking a skeleton, dressed in jeans and black tee shirt, was sitting in the chair. 

"You've done this sort of thing before though,"she reassured.

"Yeah I know. But never with a species that was more technologically capable than Earth. The Borash could take on the Asguard if they wanted to. There was always that comfortable thought in the back of mind whenever I negotiated that if I screwed up big time I could get the hell out and Thor could help me deal with the repercussions."

"Has that ever happened?" she asked, slightly horrified.

He looked insulted, possibly. It was hard to tell in the dim light. "No," he replied, "But I still *thought* that."

She sat on the arm of his chair, her hips beginning to ache with standing. Arthritis was another reason she lay awake at night, although her new drugs were helping.

He leaned his head against her, gesture of closeness they'd always been forbidden to express when they'd previously been in situations like this. She still felt uncomfortable whenever Jack crossed that line, the line between comrade and companion. It was perfectly legal for him to do so now, of course. But she was far more used to holding back, reigning in her feelings-- 

He was stroking her arm. "Did you think anymore about what I said last night?"

She swallowed. "A little."

He continued to stroke her arm. "Did you come to any conclusions?"

"No," she replied frankly. 

"No surprise there then," he said, half to himself.

"I've got so used to being without you," she said honestly, "That I just wonder if it would be any better if I was with you."

"I know it would be."

"I'd miss Cassie. I mean, I'm her legal guardian. I want to see her kids. It kind of feels like they'll be my grandkids."

"I'm her guardian too," Jack reminded her. 

"And you were always there when she was younger and she needed a father figure. She remembers that and she's grateful," Carter said, her tone appreciative "But you've not been on Earth for a while, y'know."

"I know." He wanted to pull her into his lap, like he would have done with a girlfriend when he was twenty, but he wondered if his old bones could take the strain. Love hadn't been lost once he'd passed through that mythical barrier at seventy but it was a lot more careful nowadays, actions weighed against the repercussions on arthritic, brittle limbs. He doubted he'd be able to stand Carter's weight, light though it was, on his knees. 

"I'm going to try and get some sleep," she said, pulling away from his hand and standing with a wince. 

"Sleep well," he returned. He heard her walk slowly back towards the hold and settle down. 

He stared at the planet on the screen for a while, mind empty except for a mournful longing that seemed to be centred in his chest. Then he followed the General back to the hold and his bed; finally falling asleep as his watch beeped one o'clock, the sound of steady breathing and Teal'c's light snores in his ears. 


	4. Causing Offence

Carter swore loudly. 

"Are you alright General Carter?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she called back to Teal'c, her voice edged with irritation. "I just cut my finger."

She emerged from the bowels of the computer core, brandishing her bleeding finger in front of her. Thor's instructions for reprogramming the computer translating system had been very thorough; but she hadn't expected to have to disembowel half of the ship simply to access the part of the computer that needed reprogramming. 

"How's the mowin' goin'?" O'Neill asked, poking his head round the door to check on their progress.

"Just peachy," said Carter as applied a band-aid to the wound. "What the Hell is all this stuff anyway?"

"Hmm?"

She jerked a thumb at the parts of the ship spread across the floor. "All that. As far as I can see it has no purpose..."

"Oh?" said O'Neill his look of careful innocence so utterly believable she knew right there and then there was something suspicious about what she was taking to pieces. Unfortunately that knowledge freighted with it the realisation that he would never *ever* tell her what it was that she was cutting herself on. She regarded him for a moment and he read some of this in the slightly-hacked-off expression creasing her face.

"Is it now my time to play Pong?" Teal'c enquired hopefully.

"Oh. Yeah. Yeah sure. I'll help Carter. Go play," O'Neill said, distracted. Teal'c stood up with annoying ease, no clicking joints for their hundred-and-twenty-something Jaffa, and hurried off.

"He's scarily addicted to that game," said Carter as she eased herself back into the guts of the ship. 

"Pong is cool. Even though it is old."

"Yes Jack. Pong is cool," she replied, smiling at the array of crystals she was rearranging. "I notice it's me who's fixing your ship," she said, as a way of starting a conversation. Teal'c had been bringing her up to date with the latest news from Chulak. 

"I just fly the thing," Jack said by way of reply.

"You've never had to do any repairs on the fly?" she continued, letting her mouth chatter while her brain and hands worked on the problem.

"Oh yeah," he replied proudly, "I can fix the flight systems no problem. But you're in the central computer core. You have to be intellectual to reprogram rather than just repair."

"Thank you," she said, slightly touched by his compliment.

"Daniel's still working on some translations," he said after a moments silence.

"...Purple crystal three down... no four," she muttered to herself, "Well you know Daniel. He's a perfectionist when it comes to translation. Can you pass me the phase indu--" she corrected herself, "I mean the spiky thing with the flashing purple light."

He passed it to her. She made some adjustments and then emerged, smiling. "All done."

"Then I guess I'd better make contact with our new friends..." O'Neill said, giving her a hand to help her up. "T! I have to use the computer comm-link now. Play Pong later!"

*

The Borashians were amphibious, Carter reminded herself. This setting was obviously completely normal to them.

Shame it was completely abnormal to humans.

The Borashian negotiating chambers were in an enclosed dome on the surface of the planet; rather like a huge greenhouse. Behind her was a screaming, chirruping jungle. Exotic looking wildlife and fowl was strutting, crawling and yammering along the edge of the trees. There was a shelf of sandy beach separating the jungle from a beautifully blue, calm sea. The Borashian delegation was sitting, presumably, about ten feet out in the water. 

"We have to join them," O'Neill said. 

*Now* she felt stupid. She was wearing dress uniform, wading out into an alien sea, to talk to some aliens that greatly resembled rather large yellow and purple frogs. 

The ground beneath her feet dropped away and she was swimming, the heavy material of her uniform a weight dragging against her with each stroke, determinedly towards the Borashians.

There *were* chairs out here, and a table. How they were supported she had no idea and they weren't designed for humans to sit on but she pulled herself gratefully onto the structure. Daniel placed the portable translating device Carter had hurriedly constructed when it became apparent that the Borashians would not be able to conduct negotiations on the Enterprise, on the table.

"We are sorry if this setting is uncomfortable for you," said the largest of the frogs, into the translating device. In actual fact the frog made a curious whistling noise, interspersed with some clicks. The words, slightly flat and emotionless, were projected by the grey box "I am Purple-Shirt-Monkey-Dishwasher."

O'Neill suddenly went poker faced. 

"It's the translator," Daniel muttered hurriedly, "It's a literal translation of the sequence of sounds."

O'Neill nodded "I'm Jack O'Neill. This is Sam Carter, Daniel Jackson and Teal'c."

"My associates are UNABLE TO TRANSLATE and Under-Four-Smile-Widely

"We're very grateful for this opportunity to talk face to face," O'Neill said.

"We wish to make clear straight away," said Purple, "That the attacks against ships in our territory have not been authorised by the Central Government of our Empire. Our borders are open to all species since the displacement of the Goa'uld system lords. The attacks have been carried out by a rogue nation within the Borashian confederacy. There is some confusion, but we believe it is the conviction of that nation that the Asguard intend to seize some of our territory. We would like conformation that this is categorically not the case before acting against our people."

O'Neill looked slightly uncomfortable. "I can offer assurances that the territory is not under threat from the Asguard. However, there is a planet within the area of space you are referring to which the Asguard have an... interest in."

"A planet inhabited by Borashians?"

"Not as far as the Asguard are aware. The planet is virtually unhabitable. However, ships obviously regularly pass close to Borashian home-worlds..."

"It is the third planet of the N'adresh solar system?" asked Under-Four and O'Neill nodded in confirmation.

UNABLE leaned forwards. "This planet is also of ...interest to the Borashian nation responsible for these attacks."

Daniel was frowning; Carter knew he was wondering what the 'significant pause interest' actually was. She wished Jack had told them, hating this unprepared feeling.

Thankfully the Borashians solved the problem. "We need some time to confer with our advisors," said Under-Four.

"Can we resume negotiations at this time tomorrow?" asked UNABLE.

"Of course," replied O'Neill. 

The Borashians dived from their seats under the water, the occasional glimpse of a yellow and purple limb visible under the flashing waves.

"Well, that was good," O'Neill said, smiling, "Short. The best kind of talk."

Daniel shot Jack a malevolent look, and Carter was quite sure her own face was creased into an equally as murderous frown. "Yes. Good. Or it would have been good if we had any kind of clue what you were talking about!" 

O'Neill sighed, sliding off his perch and into the water. He sculled awkwardly on his back for a moment. "I'll tell you back on the ship. I'd hoped it wouldn't come to this...."

*

Jack sat down in his Captain's chair, holding his head in his hands. Daniel crossed his arms over his chest. "Cut the crap and tell us what's going on Jack," he said, rolling his eyes.

O'Neill raised an eyebrow. "When did the legendary Jackson tolerance cease to exist?" O'Neill asked.

"When my kids turned into teenagers. C'mon Jack, we need to know."

"I concur," said Teal'c, standing behind the archeologist. Carter said nothing, but moved to stand on Daniel's left. 

"Oh for cryin' out loud," O'Neill muttered, "What is this? A face off? There's an Ancient device on that planet that the Asguard want. This whole sector's littered with the damn things, but it's the only working one."

"It's a weapon?" Carter enquired.

"No," O'Neill replied, "It's a... It's a..." He dropped his head into his hands again. "It's a genetic manipulator. The Asguard want it to try and help with their... little problem. It's way beyond even their technology."

"Why are the Borashians interested in this device?" Teal'c asked.

"We think that the particular nation causing the problem are suffering from a disease that attacks their DNA and they want to use the device as well."

Daniel looked bemused. "Can't they share?"

"That's what we're here to negotiate Daniel," O'Neill said, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

"Why didn't you just tell us this before?" said Carter, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"The Asguard hoped it might be an unrelated matter. And if it was there was no need to tell you..."

"So they wouldn't have to share with us? That seems harsh," said Daniel.

O'Neill waved his hand in a harassed manner. "You know the way the Asguard feel about us. Thor was kind enough to remind me before I left that it's less than a century since human beings wiped out six million other human beings on the basis of genetics in a holocaust. Given Earth's track record with genocide he thought it was best we didn't know. And I for one agree with him."

"What happens if we don't reach an agreement?"

"We go home," said O'Neill.

"Unmolested?"

"Hopefully. I *did* warn you that this was going to be dangerous--" 

"Yes, we were warned," Daniel cut him off, his face still furrowed in a frown, "I just want to feel a bit more prepared for... things... when we're negotiating."

"You must admit Jack, it seems stupid not to have told us before," said Carter.

O'Neill had the decency to look embarrassed. "Well, technically you're only required at negotiations in case the translator breaks... so you and Daniel can fix it. And Teal'c is head of security, obviously..."

There was a ringing silence.

"Not that I was following those... guidelines in any way at all," he added hurriedly.

More silence. 

"I'll make us some coffee, shall I?" he said.


	5. It Shouldn't Be But It Is

O'Neill sat on his darkened bridge in his chair, head on his knees. He was *aching* with tiredness but he couldn't sleep. Negotiations with the Borashians were at a standstill, and to add to his troubles the rebel nation causing all the problems in the first place were now threatening to attack his diplomatic courier. SG1 had docked on the planet for additional security but now Purple and his associates were rumbling about the potential consequences for their Empire if the central government was seen to be 'defending the enemy.'

He'd turned the view-screen off. He couldn't face the marine-scape outside. He understood that a ship equipped to survive the rigours of interstellar travel would function underwater with few problems but he still didn't like the *thought* of all that water outside, pressing in...

An alarm started to bleep quietly. O'Neill tapped a key on the arm of his chair. "O'Neill here."

"O'Neill." The voice of Thor, slightly distorted, sounded tinny in his ear. "We have received a number of threats against you and your crew from Borashian rebels. We advise you to leave *now.*"

There was a note of fear in the Asguard's voice, O'Neill was horrified to realise. "Can you offer us protection?"

"Only once you leave Borashian space."

"Leave *now?*"

"Now," replied the alien, "We have informed the Borashian central government you will be departing. Thor out."

O'Neill blinked in the gloom, trying to dispel some of his exhaustion, and the surprise. Thor did not often give him direct instructions or go over his head when it came to negotiations. The fact that he had felt it necessary was... a little worrying. 

Time to stop thinking and start acting. "Computer. Lights up. Daniel! Carter! Teal'c! Wake up!!" He slipped his headset on and set the computer to the task of warming up the engines as the rest of SG1 shuffled onto the bridge.

"What's going on Jack?" Daniel asked, still peeved after the earlier events of the day.

"We're leaving," O'Neill informed him bluntly. Carter, Teal'c, take the seats at the helm. Daniel, prime the escape pods."

"We're leaving?" Daniel repeated. Carter, still obedient to military training, moved to sit at the helm. Teal'c sat on the other side, but swivelled to face O'Neill.

"Thor just contacted me. The Borashian rebels have been making threats against us. Thor seems to be taking them serious-" 

He was cut off as the ship quivered as a shock wave moved through the water. "What was that?" asked Carter.

O'Neill's eyes unfocussed, adopting the faraway look worn by those reading something off the inside of their head. "Borashian energy weapon fire. They're coming."

"Can we outfight them?" Daniel enquired, hurrying over to the control panel mounted on the wall which controlled the four escape pods the Enterprise had been hastily equipped with prior to their mission.

"No," O'Neill answered grimly. "But we might be able to hold them off long enough to reach Asguard space."

The whine of the engines rose a tone in urgency and despite the inertial dampening they felt the ship judder as it rose upwards through the waves. "I didn't think there were any weapons on the Enterprise..." said Carter slowly.

"Technically, there's not," O'Neill replied, his fingers flying over the control panels on the arms of his chair. "But Thor equipped the Enterprise with a few... extras."

There was a clunk and the groan of moving machinery. "What is happening, O'Neill?"

O'Neill smiled, a slightly evil grin. A picture appeared on the view-screen. 

"That's the Enterprise, isn't it...?" said Daniel.

The ship on the screen was folding outwards, larger wings unfolding complete with an array of energy weapons banks, missiles, a third sub-light engine. The Enterprise had been an unsymmetrical, bulky courier previously. Now it was streamlined, concordant; powerful looking.

"I should have known," grinned Carter, "We all should have guessed."

"I thought you had," O'Neill informed her, "When you were re-programming."

"Oh, I suspected something. But I didn't know..." she replied.

"There's a headset in the side of the chair; Carter, T," O'Neill said, "Put them on. It'll sting for a minute, but it should give you control of the weapons systems. Be ready to fire on my mark."

"Escape pods are almost online," Daniel said, peering down his nose at the display. "Think we're going to need them?"

"Hope not," O'Neill muttered as the ship swung round, the view-screen changing back to show the events occurring outside. "There are three Borashian ships closing on our position."

Carter could see the Borashian ships on the view-screen. Thin, needle like with bulging protrusions clad in a shimmering green metal; they looked threatening. They were matching the Enterprises's speed, flying in close formation.

"We're being hailed," O'Neill said.

The view screen split into two and a frog-like face appeared, apparently identical to Purple and his associates.

"We will destroy you, Asguard scum. Our ships are superior and we outnumber you. Surrender and we may spare your lives."

O'Neill cut the comm-link. "Enough of that. Brace yourselves; evasive manoeuvres!"

The ship swept sideways as the first Borashian fired. A volley of return fire from the Enterprise exploded harmlessly. The second Borashian ship struck the Enterprise, the energy shielding sparking. O'Neill pointed her nose upwards and they screamed through the atmosphere, red-hot fire tracing the outline of the ship.

The Borashians matched speed, and despite O'Neill's efforts several more shots hit home. The Enterprises's weapons seemed unable to penetrate the Borashian shielding, despite several shots on target by Carter and Teal'c.

The bridge was alight with warning lights. "Shields are failing," O'Neill said, voice curiously dead. 

"How far?"

"Too far. I'm diverting power from secondary systems..."

Another shot glanced across the bow, this time followed by the screech of buckling metal. Steam began to pour from a ruptured vent. A second, and third hit caused a cacophony of metallic destruction.

O'Neill swore loudly. "Hull breach! Escape pods are our only chance now!"

The ship was spinning crazily, inertial dampeners failing and artificial gravity erratic. They stumbled across to the pods where Daniel was hanging on for grim death. "Slight problem!" he yelled.

"What?!"

"That last shot did some damage to the jettison systems... I don't think I can fix it!"

"Carter?!" O'Neill yelped.

"I wouldn't know where to start!"she shouted back, "The control board is fried!"

"There's only two left online!"

O'Neill paused, sharing a loaded glance with Carter, and then a nod. She shut her eye as he old commander spoke, knowing what his words would mean and knowing just as well she would not accept things any other way.

"Daniel. Teal'c. Get in. The pods should jettison and enter hyperspace. We should be close enough now to Asguard space. Thor will pick you up," he said slowly.

"No."

"No way."

O'Neill screwed up his face. "We haven't got time to argue. You pair both have a wife, kids to go back to. Me and Carter haven't. That's the deal. Don't argue. Just GO!!"

Daniel held his gaze for a long moment. "This can't-" 

"Daniel! GO!!" Carter screamed as another shot sent them spinning in the opposite direction. 

"We will return," Teal'c said, ripping off his headset as O'Neill practically shoved him into the pod.

"Yeah, we'll be waiting," O'Neill returned. "Now get your backsides out of here!"

They slammed the doors shut on the still protesting men. The pods ejected immediately, shocking the two remaining members of SG1 into silence, filled with the groans of the ship in its death throes. 

They fell against each other as the ship finally began to break apart, the sounds unbearably loud.

"Looks like its me and you again, Carter," O'Neill said into her ear.

She clutched him, a terrible sadness threatening to burst within her. "It shouldn't have been like this."

"But it is. And you know, I'm glad that its you I'm here with."

"Me too."

"I love you, Sam."

"I love you too Jack."

There didn't seem to be anything else left to say. Filled with the curious calm sometimes granted to those facing the certainty of their own demise, O'Neill reflected quietly that there wasn't anything else that was worth saying. His last words would be something meaningful. That was all that mattered.

He kissed her on the lips as he ship disintegrated around them; the hiss of escaping oxygen seeming to fill his world. He could feel her heart beating, her chest pressed against his own, the cold metal of the headset on his forehead. In his last few moments his senses seemed determined to record every detail. Another shot hit the ship.

The remaining oxygen in the exposed tanks ignited. There was heat, but no pain. There was no time. 

----- 

Not the end.... There's more ship still to come! -Lunar


	6. Breath of Life

O'Neill had noticed, having spent far more than the normal amount of time fading gradually back into consciousness after a long period of blissful insensibility, that the olfactory senses always seemed to return first. Most people seemed to talk about hearing someone calling them, or light through their eyelids, but O'Neill always smelt something that bought him back to consciousness. 

He could smell cold air, a breeze on his face. There *were* voices, on the edge of hearing, familiar ones. And light, shining through his eyelids. 

Cold air. Had to be better than sulphur and brimstone. He opened his eyes.

Thor was standing over him; never before in his life had he been happier to see the alien's egg-shaped head. "Thor!" he cried, although his throat felt as if it were full of sand and it emerged as more of a croak.

"O'Neill. I am glad you have regained consciousness."

O'Neill struggled to sit up; thankful that all his arms and legs appeared to be present and functioning, if somewhat erratically. "Where's Carter?"

"She is close by. She has yet to regain consciousness."

"Can I see her?"

"Soon," Thor assured, and O'Neill noticed for the first time a slightly worried edge to his voice. He ran his hand self-consciously through his thinning hair. He stopped, hand hovering over his head. His hair had been shaved short and almost bald on top but now his fingers touched a shock of hair two inches from his head; thick and luxuriant. He traced the hair to where it now fell, just below his earlobes.

"What happened? Are Daniel and Teal'c okay?" he asked, his voice sounding as if it were coming from far, far away. He bought his hands in front of his head. Here again was a difference. His hands were scarred, gnarled with age. The hands he held before him now were smooth, the skin supple and tanned. Something was wrong here. His head felt as if it were full of cotton wool, thinking was harder than it should be...

"Their escape pods were successfully retrieved and Doctor Jackson and Teal'c have been returned safely to Earth."

"What happened to me?" he repeated, now tracing his bare arms with his long, tapering fingers. Muscles long wasted with age once more bulged with the vigour of youth.

"Your body was destroyed in the explosion, along with that of General Carter," Thor said.

O'Neill considered this. He thought that he ought to feel slightly more... more *bothered* by this bald statement, but he didn't.

"How am I here?"

"Your consciousness was stored on the computer core which survived the explosion, stored via the neural link on your headsets. Enough genetic material was procured to clone a replacement body into which your consciousness was transferred."

O'Neill swung his legs off the bed, clutching the silvery blanket to him to cover his nakedness. "I'm a clone?" 

Thor looked awkward. "Not exactly. You're *original* consciousness has been transferred into a cloned body."

"This isn't the body that died. This isn't even *like* the body that died."

"No," Thor said, honestly. "We thought that it would be more beneficial to only age the new body to maturity as is standard procedure for Asguard transferences, as you know."

O'Neill nodded woodenly. "Uh. I need some time to... get my head straight... Can you tell me when Carter wakes up?"

"Of course. Your possessions remain in your quarters, if you wish to put on some clothes."

O'Neill smiled thinly. The Asguard had never really understood the whole idea of clothes.

He wrapped the silvery blanket firmly around his midriff and hurried towards his quarters on Thor's ship. They were as he had left them. 

A mess.

He dropped the blanket as he hunted for some clean boxers in the piles of clothes. His gaze was caught by the figure in the mirror and he found himself drawn inexorably to the glass. 

It was his face, certainly. The angular lines and wrinkles age had bought had been erased and there was a softer look to it, but it was reassuringly familiar. His hair was wrong, longer than he had ever kept it in his life, but it was muddy brown again, curling as it grew away from his head. He studied his torso carefully, somewhat admiringly; it was as if it belonged to someone else because even at the peak of his physical fitness, even when he was twenty-two year old special-forces officer, he had never had muscles this defined and developed.

He knew the Asguard had medical techniques that could exercise unused muscles, so that their cloned bodies were in perfect physical condition when they transferred their consciousness. Presumably they had used the same techniques on himself.

Apart from the muscles, everything else (even *that*) seemed pretty much the same. Maybe a bit less wrinkled, or slightly less hairy, or not as grey, balding or gnarled. But still familiar; still *his.*

Which was reassuring. 

Thor had offered him a cloned body before, but he'd refused. He'd allowed them to perform some surgery on his knees (otherwise he's probably in a wheelchair by now) and he had been thinking about asking Thor to do something about his arthritis but he had been uneasy about cloning. It wasn't a religious thing it was just, where would it end? To be younger in body than his friends; Daniel, Teal'c and Carter, would be plain weird. 

He couldn't remember dying. Maybe, he thought, maybe my consciousness just hid in the computer before I actually burnt to death. 

Maybe.

He dressed unthinkingly, his once baggy tee shirts now pulled tight over his chest. The comm link beeped. "O'Neill. General Carter is awake."

He hurried out of the room. 

*

Carter sat on the bed, gazing unseeing out of the window at the scattering of burning white stars, like white paint dribbled on an inky blue surface. 

She supposed she ought to feel happy.

She *felt* guilty. How stupid was that?

She had sacrificed her life to save another and by wondrous fortune and luck she had been given this... this amazing new chance at life, this fantastic body; so familiar and yet so perfect she barely felt it belonged to her. 

She brushed her hair back behind her ears. It was nearly waist length and golden-blonde. She couldn't remember when her hair had last been this long. Probably when she was about six. The sleeves of the shirt she had borrowed from Jack, several sizes too large, hung loosely over her hands; coming to rest on the knees of extremely baggy, worn blue jeans. 

What was she going to tell Cassie?

Beep. Beep-Beep.

Someone was pressing the doorbell. She sniffed and wiped eyes she hadn't noticed were tear-filled.

"Come in."

"Hey Carter," O'Neill said as the door slid open and a shaft of light illuminated the dark room, making her blink owlishly."Present for you," he said, indicating the bundle of clothing he carried in his arms. "You feelin' okay?"

"Just a bit weird," she confessed. "Computer, lights up."

He sat down on the bed next to her and she saw his face more clearly, impossibly young. Somehow, the youthful beauty made her feel more sad.

He rested his hand lightly on her shoulder for a moment. "Stop beating yourself up about it."

She smiled wryly, wishing he couldn't read her quite so well. "I just-" 

"I know. Stop thinking about it. You-I-we've both been given a chance to live our lives again. That's all there is to it. No guilt." He looked sidelong at her, his roving hazel gaze softening as he took in the slight pink flush in her cheeks, the crystal blue of her eyes now freed from lines of laughter and care. He reached across and stroked an errant strand of golden blonde hair falling across her face, tucking it behind her ear. "I thought you would have cut this off," he commented, voice constricted with an emotion she refused to acknowledge.

She shrugged. "It's been a long time since I had long hair. I decided to keep it this way for a bit."

"It suits you," he responded, tracing the fall of her blonde locks with his eyes over her shoulder and down to her waist. Self-consciously he reached up and ran his hand through his own shock of brown hair. "I didn't know whether to cut mine or not," he admitted. There was an uncomfortable silence. He shifted awkwardly, trying to think of a way to end it. 

"Thor told me we're heading back to Earth," she said listlessly.

"Yeah, me too."

"Aren't you worried?" she asked him, eyeing him quizzically.

It was his turn to shrug. "Not overly. I mean, I think most people will be glad to see us alive."

She paused before speaking. "I can't imagine what Cassie's going to say," she sighed.

"She'll just be happy that you came home," he reassured. 

"I suppose," Carter replied, disbelieving. 

Silence descended on them again. He took a deep breath. "Carter?"

"Jack?"

"You know... if all of this hadn't have happened. Would you have... uh. Would you have said yes?"

The silence ballooned as he held his breath in anticipation.

"Yes." The word was as the footfall of a God in O'Neill's world and he let out the breath he had been holding.

She sighed and looked away, the all too familiar sinking feeling in her stomach overwhelming her. "Don't-" she began, before he could.

"Don't what?" he asked, eyes suddenly alight, "Don't... what?"

"Don't say it," she warned, "Don't ask me. You know it isn't fair."

He stood up, so suddenly he made her flinch, and walked over to the window, arms clasped behind his back. When he spoke his voice emerged flat calm. "Ask you?"

She felt her own anger flare. "Stop playing stupid," she said, her voice shaking, "You know I can't-not anymore-" 

"Oh, for cryin' out loud, why not?" he half-hissed, spinning around to face her, his face no longer as attractive in a shade of flushed red.

"Because!" she returned, stuttering in her anger, "Because there's a whole universe out there! And twenty-five years isn't long enough to explore it! Now I have a second chance to find out more."

"I don't want to stop exploring either!" he shouted back, "But... can't we explore together? Why does it always have to come down to a choice between me or the SGC?" He moved obliquely across the black floor, drawing ever nearer.

"Why?" she yelled, "Why?!" She froze, the cool logic she had convinced herself with only moments earlier disappearing. There *was* a good reason for furthering her career at the SGC, she was sure of it, but he was too close to her... clouding her judgement. When she had looked Death in the face she had felt secure. At peace. There was no one else she would have wanted to be with. Wasn't that love?

He grabbed her arms, the movement shockingly sudden but his touch gentle.

"What more can you achieve Major-General Doctor Carter?" he whispered, "Career wise, what more is there that you want?"

Nothing. She knew the answer even if she couldn't say it. All she had ever wanted was holding her by the arms, dangerously near. Hormones, a long forgotten factor in their whole miserable equation were once more pulsing in her veins, dragging her gaze to his mouth. She could see the light dusting of stubble on his trembling upper lip; see the flush that angry blood thundering through his body leant him. She could hear ragged breathing, his own or hers she couldn't tell. 

Why? Why couldn't she say yes? Was it simply that she had gotten so used to denying her feelings that now the opportunity to act on them presented itself she couldn't bring herself to do anything? 

Forget pride at being a strong and independent woman. Forget old decisions. Forget what people would think. What did she, this Sam Carter standing here now with Jack O'Neill physically begging her to decide, really want?

Their eyes met again. She leant forward slowly, drawn inexorably forward until their noses touched. She kissed his upper lip, the prickling of spiky stubble adding a kind of reality to the dreamlike state she now found herself inhabiting. He kissed her lips back, gently, capturing her bottom lip between his own until they found the kiss deepening, moving away from the chaste brush of mouths it had started out as and into a more passionate, frenzied contact. 

She slid backwards under the gentle weight he was exerting on her arms until they were lying, tangled together, on her bed. Her hand slid from where it had been clasped around his neck to rest on his chest and he misconstrued the gesture, drawing away from her, thinking she was uncomfortable. She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him back

His hands moved from where they had gripped her arms, snaking down the contours of her body. His thumbs came to rest at the waist of her borrowed jeans as she knit her right hand into his hair, the other creeping over his shoulder to touch his back.

He broke away; leaned his forehead against hers, trying to think straight after experiencing the most intense kiss in his life. Carter tugged at the hem of his tee shirt and he responded unthinkingly, allowing her to pull it over his head.

They kissed again, his fingers fumbling for the buttons of her shirt, as she ran her hands over his exquisitely muscled frame; tracing the contours of the muscles that were defined to the degree of an anatomical chart and yet did not lend a disproportionate bulk to his lanky frame. 

His fingers, fumbling with desire, managed to undo several of her buttons and he pulled open her shirt, shocked to find that she wasn't wearing any underwear underneath. But then, he didn't have bra to lend her, did he? A small moan escaped his mouth as his hands moved to mirror hers, seemingly no longer under their owner's control; the feel of her skin brushing the palms of his hands explosively intense. He felt her mouth move under his as they kissed; she was smiling. 

He forced his hands to grip her shoulders, fighting the impulse to slide them back down her body again; his resolve nearly breaking as she kissed his throat. "Stop," he pleaded, his voice breaking.

"Stop?" she replied, confused.

His hands were shaking. "Stop," he repeated, hating himself for saying it but coercing the words to croak out of his throat.

"Why?" she asked, shifting her weight slightly and forcing her hips into his. He gasped slightly and she smiled again at the reaction, making as if to shift again.

"Because this isn't us. And it isn't fair. I mean, we can't... I can't know you like this if you're going to leave me alone at the end of it. Okay, Sam? I couldn't live with it. You can turn away and walk right now and... well, I'd deal with it. But I wouldn't be able to if we... if we..." He blushed, and realised he couldn't say the words. 

She slumped back and his head dropped into the crook of her shoulder and neck, relishing the warmth of her skin pressed against his, her smell filling his senses. Now a little of the craziness had dissipated from atmosphere he found he was glad just to be here, alive with Carter. Sam. Whatever.

The comm-link beeped. "O'Neill. General Carter. We are approaching Earth."


	7. Changing

Sam pushed the door to her house open gingerly. Unanswered post piled up on the other side offered slight resistance but she slid through the gap and shut the door behind her, leaning against it for a moment as her eyes grew more accustomed to the gloom within. She flicked on the table lamp and picked up all the post; mostly junk mail she realised as she rifled through it. Her watch beeped to herald in a new day; the second day of her second life.

It had been an incredibly long day. There had been a barrage of medical tests to face, explanations to give, reports to write and file, arrangements to make... She had considered sleeping on base but something inside her had rebelled and she had driven home late at night, wishing only for the softness and familiarity of her own bed. 

She stumbled up the stairs and undressed for bed. She brushed her teeth, avoiding her eyes in the mirror. Somehow, seeing the young woman's body wearing the old lady's nightshirt was too much to bear. She splashed some water on her face and crawled into bed, snuggling under the heavy duvet and falling asleep.

She awoke early the next morning, the birds singing annoyingly loud. A shaft of sunlight had pierced the shadow of her room through a chink in the curtains. The play of light across her face had undoubtably roused her. 

No sense in wasting the day, even if she had only managed six hours sleep. She had thoughtfully signed herself off duty for the next week, needing some time to organise her life. She washed and dressed, made breakfast mechanically. She realised she was avoiding thinking, which was unlike her. She sat down at her breakfast table with a steaming mug of coffee and tried to force a mind still reeling with the events of the past few days into thinking straight.

She needed to buy some new clothes. Scrabbling through her wardrobe to find a suitable outfit had made her realise that she dressed like an old woman. Which had been fine when her body had been sixty, but baggy jeans and shapeless knitwear she had somehow slipped into wearing just looked strange on a body that looked barely out of its teens. 

Half an hour later she pulled up outside the local shopping mall. She strolled through the shopping centre, quiet at such an early hour in the morning. She wandered into the nearest clothes shop, touching the purse in her pocket instinctively. 

Meandering through the racks she instinctively began to look for clothes in a slightly too large, comfortable size and then realised what she was doing. Taking a deep breath she reached out for the nearest, smallest and brightest shirt she could find. Then she picked some tight jeans from the rack and, beginning to enjoy herself, another shirt. Five articles of clothing later she found the changing rooms and went inside to try on her potential purchases. A grin pasted itself across her features as she tried on top and jeans, cropped trousers and tee shirts. She had forgotten the joy of picking clothes straight from a rack that fitted well. 

She spent nearly a hundred dollars in the first shop alone and after two hours of intense retail therapy had to drop the bags off in her car and return for just a *few* more items, and a haircut. 

Passing a tatooist's with an advert in the window she suddenly realised that the earlobes of her new body weren't pierced. A pang of sadness rippled through her consciousness as she thought of all the lovely earrings she had amassed over the years she was now unable to wear. Then the stupidity of the sadness hit her and she walked inside to take advantage of the two-for-one offer on body piercing.

Her ears and navel were stinging when she walked out again but she felt.... happy. She'd never been brave enough to have her belly button pierced when she was younger.... the first time around anyway, but this was a new start after all. She had a toned stomach now to show off the piercing and she could see no good reason for not doing so. 

Feeling that her credit cards had taken enough of a battering she returned to her car and added the rest of the bags to the pile in the back. She started the engine and glanced in the mirror and admired her new hair, cut in a more fashionable style that framed her face but still long.

She went home and put on a new outfit, feeling wonderful as she did so. The sunshine outside practically demanded cropped trousers and a tee shirt that showed off her new piercing. The 'phone rang and she ran downstairs to pick it up.

"Hello?" she said, the realisation that she had just run down stairs without a twinge from arthritic knees striking her as she spoke.

"Hi Sam. It's Daniel. Just wondering if you needed to talk..."

"I'm fine," she said, suffused with a happiness that refused to abate. "But I'd love a chat."

There was the mumble of voices off the line for a second and then Daniel spoke again. "Sarah asks if you want to come round for a coffee."

"I'd love to. Be there in fifteen minutes."

Sixteen minutes later she was ringing the doorbell of the Jackson residence. Daniel opened the front door and blinked. "Wow," he said. "I didn't recognise you."

For the first time since waking up Sam suddenly felt awkward. "Well-" she began, some of the guilt she felt at being in this fantastic new form when Daniel was still in his old one returning.

"You look incredible!" he continued and she felt the knot of tension in her stomach relax again, "I mean yesterday, in BDUs... you were still... old somehow. You hadn't changed too much. But now you look... well like one of my daughter's friends," he confessed.

"Thanks. I think," Carter replied, following him inside. 

Sarah was in the kitchen. "Oh my God!" she almost shrieked when Sam entered, somewhat self-consciously. "I hate you. You look *gorgeous.*"

Carter blushed. On Thor's ship she had sat and worried about the reactions of her friends and family; expecting shock and horror. She had never anticipated this friendly kind of envy; other people were *happy* for her. 

"I have to thank you," Sarah said, moving to slip her hand through Daniel's arm, "For the safe return of my husband."

Sam goggled, unable to phrase a suitable reply. 

"Have coffee," Daniel said, kissing his wife on the cheek and then pulling his arm away. "I have gardening work to do..."

*

It was early evening of the fifth day of her new life. Having spent the day with Cassie, Carter had decided to go for a run. Now her knees were up to the exercise she felt the burning desire to keep her new form in prime physical condition. 

The sky was heavy with storm clouds, the heat driven ahead of the thunderheads oppressive so she changed into a vest top and shorts; not caring if she should get wet. 

She set off out of her house at a jog, steering a course towards the nearest park. Her muscles warmed, she upped her pace to a run, then a sprint. The air was hot and humid as she dashed, eliciting curious glances from the few other people in the park. 

A rumble of thunder made her stop suddenly. Hands on her knees she drew in lungfuls of oxygen, pleased at how quickly she recovered from her exertions. The splatter of rain on the concrete made her look up. She could see the curtain of rain racing towards her as thunder growled again. She smiled, relishing the prospect of rain. It had been a long time since she had been able to enjoy the rain without feeling the ache of damp in her joints. 

A shadow detached itself from the foot of an old oak tree where it had apparently been lurking. "Hello."

Carter jumped. Jack O'Neill strolled towards her, hands entrenched in the pockets of jeans. He seemed even more tanned than she remembered, presumably he had been making the most of the good weather as she had.

"Jack? What are you doing here?"

"My house is near here," he explained, "And I fancied a walk before the thunderstorm hit."

"I didn't know you had a house," she said, curious.

"I didn't," he replied, as if that was any kind of answer.

He stood directly in front of her now, so tall she had crane her neck to look at his face. His hair had been cut, he now sported a rather cool tousled style, with a shark's fin of longer hair down the centre of his head. 

"You... uh, you want to go get a coffee or something? Get out of the rain?"

"I like the rain," she replied, almost chastising.

He shrugged. "Fair enough."

The rain hit them, a downpour so ferocious the raindrops stung their respective heads, bringing an end to a potentially awkward silence.

"Still like the rain?!" he yelled as lightening flashed from cloud to cloud above them.

The warmth was draining from the atmosphere now and Carter shook her head. He held out his hand, taking her smaller one in his and leading her at a run down one of the park paths. It was slightly overgrown and she wondered briefly where he was taking her. The reason became apparent as a concrete shelter loomed out of the greeness around them. 

They squeezed under the crumbling roofing together, listening to the patter of the rain. "So how's things?" she asked, "What've you been doing?"

He studied her for a moment and she blushed as his gaze roved over her wet clothes and hair, mascara smudged under her eyes. "Same as you. Changing my wardrobe, sorting out a new apartment, visiting Daniel and Cassie."

"Cassie never said you'd visited!" Sam said, indignant and outraged her daughter hadn't bothered to tell her Jack had visited.

He looked slightly shamefaced. "I asked her not to."

"Why?"

He shifted in awkwardness. "I dunno," he said shortly. 

She shivered; in the gloom with the rain water evaporating off her bare limbs she was suddenly cold. He moved forward instinctively and rubbed her arms. "Cold?"

"A bit." She tried to ignore the fluttering in her stomach. Resisting the charms of O'Neill had been hard enough when he was seventy. Now he looked more like a cool catalogue model it was even more difficult.

The rain slowed to a more gentle hiss. "Come on," he said, relinquishing the contact between them.

She followed as he lead her out through the park, the rain level dropping further as more rays of sunlight pierced the clouds. The air was filled with the intoxicating smell of all open areas after a fall of rain, a smell O'Neill had always loved.

He stopped suddenly and she almost walked into him. "I've bought an apartment," he announced. She raised her eyebrows and he felt compelled to continue. "I spoke to Thor. I'm going to start living on Earth when I'm not conducting talks. I've even been thinking about coming out of retirement again. Rejoining the SGC."

*No!* 

Her surprise was obvious on her face, but she managed to bite back the word that had immediately leapt to her lips. "Rejoin the military?" she quavered.

"New life," he reminded her.

"I suppose," she said, trying to force a smile.

He read her well. "Of course. I might not..." He touched her shoulders, thumbs resting on her collar bone, fingers on her back. 

"Not...?" she asked, almost mesmerised by his dark gaze. 

He reached out with a tanned hand and stroked her cheek, skin taught and smooth. With infinite care he brushed her lips with his own.

"People can see us," she said flatly.

"I don't care," he replied.

"They'll be disgusted at the young people kissing," she replied, the words seeming oddly familiar on her lips. "Deja-vu," she murmured, smiling slightly as she remembered *why* they seemed so familiar.

"We lead very weird lives," he said in answer.

She let him kiss her again, relaxing slightly in his embrace. She enjoyed his kisses, when she let herself.

He broke away, his eyes burning with an emotion she daren't name. "Do you want to see my new house?" he asked, voice rough.

"Yeah," she replied, feeling oddly light headed.

"It's not far."


	8. Worth the Wait

WARNING. This chapter should possibly be rated R rather than PG-13. If you'd rather not risk it then feel free to skip it, it isn't necessary reading in terms of continuity. Oh, and thanks to HecatonchiresLM for the idea about Asgardian surgery on O'Neill's knees... brilliant idea which I unashamedly stole and haven't yet thanked you for.. :-) 

--Lunar 

O'Neill's street had the oddly shut-in look of residential areas after a burst of heavy rain. Washing had been hastily grabbed off lines, scattered trails of brightly coloured pegs half-lost in wet grass marking the dash of the clothes' owners into their homes. There was a tricycle abandoned on its side outside someone's front door, a baseball bat hastily dropped on a patio.

O'Neill entered the correct code into the keypad mounted on the wall next to his own front door. There was an electronic buzz and the door opened. They stepped inside; Carter was surprised by the disarray.

"Decorating?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

The door shut behind them with an audible click.

"Uh huh."

He ushered her into his living room. The largest television she had ever seen in her entire life dominated one wall, a huge bookshelf the other. There was a broad red leather sofa, very comfortable looking. She sat down on it. Her gaze was drawn to the book on the coffee table, a Simpsons episode guide currently acting as a coaster to several bottles of beer. O'Neill hastily attempted to tidy away some of the clutter. He grabbed the bottles and a moment later she heard the clink of them being thrown into the trash can.

"Want a drink?" he called from the kitchen. She shook her head and he came away empty handed to sit beside her. "So," he said, fixing her with a stare. "Do you think I should rejoin the SGC?"

"If you can stand having me as your commanding officer," she replied shrewdly, giving him eye for eye.

"I can... if that's what you want," he responded instantly.

She dropped her gaze to her knees, unable to meet his hazel eyes. "No..." she murmured, "But..."

"Look," he interrupted her softly, "It's not a difficult decision to make. Either you want to be with me or you don't."

She stared fixedly at her knees, willing herself to think cooly and logically.

Why was it so hard to say yes? This was ridiculous, she realised. This whole situation should never have been allowed to happen. If only they had been able to pursue their feelings in the first place this, whatever this was, would never have ballooned out of all proportion. It *wasn't* a difficult decision at all, it had been made into one by circumstances beyond their control...

Righteous anger was coursing through her veins now as she paused. Anger at the world, anger at the system, anger at him and herself....

She looked him in the eyes again. "I want to be with you," she said slowly, moving with shocking suddenness to kiss him fiercely, the anger transmuting into... something else.

It wasn't a neat, choreographed embrace. It was a jumble of fumbling hands, a tangle of shaking limbs, sliding under shirts and knitting themselves into hair as they slid sideways to lie on the sofa. Neither of them spoke. There was still feeling, shared between them, that talking would destroy the wonderful spontaneity of the moment. Even now there was a taint of guilt in air, as if they could be discovered at any moment and reprimanded for their actions.

Wet clothes were peeled from their beautiful young bodies in a strange, controlled frenzy. O'Neill, suddenly finding himself in nothing more than his boxer shorts, decided the sofa was far too uncomfortable for this kind of thing. In one fluid movement he scooped Carter up in his bare arms, carrying her up the stairs and feeling a kind of joy at the realisation of what he was doing. Less than a week ago he had been unable to pull this woman into his lap for fear of the damage it would wreak on a fragile body. He deposited her gently onto his bed where they shed the rest of their clothes and he scrabbled through his bedside drawers for a particular item.

If O'Neill was ever in the right frame of mind, he would (when severely pressed and possibly injected with some kind of truth drug, not generally being the kind of man given to recanting his sexual experiences to anyone) have admitted that the most memorable of said encounters had been with his wife, after he had returned from nearly three months active service abroad. It had been the realisation that their moment together might never have occurred; if a sniper had aimed slightly higher, if the landmine had exploded twenty seconds earlier, if a thousand variables that had worked out in his favour hadn't.

*This* was something more. This wasn't three months. This wasn't even three* years.* This was a quarter of a century, twenty five years of waiting to express an emotion he wasn't allowed to feel. Sometimes the emotion had been easier to repress than others, but it had always been there, from almost the first time he had met Sam Carter. Sometimes it a had simply been lust, sometimes something much deeper, but he had grown to accept that this feeling was something that would never,*ever* go away.

And, he came to realise as their bodies were wracked with the inevitable outcome of their activities, slick with a mixture of rain water and sweat; it was never *going* to go away. They had fought together, experienced some things human beings were never meant to experience together, even died together. He knew at that moment with absolute clarity, that he was never, ever going to stop loving this woman. 

Hell, he'd propose to her... well not at this *exact* moment, but damn soon if he didn't know her so well.

Instead they lay, sweat-streaked and satisfied, his nose touching hers; neither of them willing to move from where they lay, the weight of O'Neill's body pinning her to the his mattress. She stroked the back of his head, reminding herself not to feel guilty. He drew away at last and for a moment she thought she saw the suspicion of a tear in his eye.

Then he smiled at her, that boyish, devil-may-care smile. It had been boyish when she had first known him, aged forty five, and it only looked more so on his younger face. She returned the grin with her own radiant smile, reserved solely for those who she truly cared about. It was a smile O'Neill had always felt honoured to receive.

"Worth the wait?" he asked, breaking the silence at last. Words that would have been embarrassing and wrong at any other time and on anyone else's lips were made right because it was him saying them

Her smile changed, eyes filling with mirth. "Well, it was a little quick," she said and his grin broadened, knowing she was teasing him, "But yeah."

He disappeared into his en suite bathroom for a moment, returning to lie next to her on his side on the duvet. She traced the outlines of various muscles in his torso dreamily and he snuggled closer to her, enjoying the warmth of her close proximity.

Outside another band of rain was passing overhead, the water running down the window pane in vertical riverlets. Carter watched the rain for a moment, O'Neill's arm snaking around her.

This, she thought, was perfect. There were no declarations of undying love; there didn't need to be. Repeating a statement they both knew to be true would simply make it tired. It was enough to simply lie beside Jack and not feel guilty; enough to be Sam and Jack rather than Captain and Colonel or Major and Colonel, Colonel and General or General and Ambassador.

"Are you hungry?" he asked suddenly.

"Hmm?" she replied, still lost in her own thoughts.

"Hungry. Are you hungry?" he repeated, "I have... cake in the kitchen if you want some."

Some things never change, she thought wryly.


	9. The Biggest Excited Puppy In The World

Daniel opened the door and Jack O'Neill practically bounded through, ridiculously happy and with the general aura of the world's biggest excited puppy. He half expected the taller man to start licking him.

Driving that bizarre thought from his brain, he followed Jack into his living room.

"So," he said, smiling in a slightly worried manner at the older-but-younger man, "What are you here for?"

"To talk," Jack replied.

"I was afraid of that," Daniel murmured.

Jack gave him a look. "Oh come on Daniel. I had to put up with you talking to me about Sarah. Now it's my turn to make you listen."

"Yeah," Daniel said, growing increasingly uncomfortable, "But Sam's like my sister... I don't want gory details..." he said, voice fading into inaudibility.

"I don't want to give you gory details," Jack snorted, "Anyway, what makes you think there are any?"

Daniel raised an eyebrow in a way scarily reminiscent of Teal'c. "Because she answered your 'phone early this morning. The 'phone which I know is in your bedroom."

A faint colour rose in Jack's cheeks and he looked away, not brave enough to challenge the logic of the statement. "Okay," he muttered.

"So you're... what now? Officially a couple?"

Jack shrugged. "I dunno. She did, uh, stay at mine last night. I walked her home and I came here. I want to talk."

"About what?" Daniel asked.

Jack let out a long exhalation he had been holding, blowing up his cheeks with air. "I want to ask her to marry me."

Daniel gave him a long stare. "Isn't it a little premature...?" he suggested gently.

"I dunno," Jack said, staring blankly ahead now, the words spoken slowly as if arriving from somewhere far away, "Is it? I mean, we've known each other a long time, we've l-"

He stumbled over the words and Daniel spoke them for him. "Loved one another."

This time he definitely blushed. "Yeah, that. For a long time."

"But you've only been together as a couple a few hours," Daniel reminded him after a moment's contemplative silence. "You just said you didn't know if you even are officially dating..."

"Okay," Jack said softly, snapping finally, but gently. "I'm being stupid. We need more time. It was ridiculous..."

So unused to Jack reacting in such a defeatist manner Daniel felt moved to speak again, if only because Jack wasn't shouting at him. "No, I didn't say that. I was just being devil's advocate. It is a little quick."

"Too quick," Jack replied, more decisively now, "You know what Car-Sam's like. She'd run a mile if she knew we were discussing this."

"Wait a while then," Daniel advised, "Until you can say her name without correcting yourself at least," he added with a grin.

Jack returned it. "I like calling her Carter."

Daniel regarded him for a moment and then spoke in a slightly distant manner. "You know Jack, no matter how long I have known you for, you still have the capacity to scare the hell out of me at certain times. Why? Realising I'm going to regret asking this, why do you like calling her Carter?"

Jack shrugged. "No one else does?" he suggested.

Carter, showered and dressed in clean clothes, hummed her way around the kitchen. She was feeling happy. Unbelievably, blissfully happy. Not guilt ridden. Not in the slightest bit like what her father embarrassingly still referred to as a 'loose woman.' Just happy.

In her kitchen, away from his influence and in a space that was uniquely her own and not tainted by either reality or remembrance of his presence here, she felt happy. She could still think of him and not feel awkward, or guilty.

It was a good feeling.

She was stirring something in a saucepan when the thought hit her again. It kept coming back to her at odd moments, making her pause in whatever she was doing (hoovering the lounge, dusting the dining room and watering the plants in the three previous instances this morning) and start to smile in this ridiculous manner.

She was-- She had shared a-- Him and her were--

Well, they were a something. Which was more than anything they had ever been before. A balloon of good-feeling seemed to have filled her chest, deflating slightly as she forced her mind back onto the task in hand, but not bursting.

The doorbell rang. She nearly dropped the wooden spoon into the saucepan. "Coming!" she yelled, taking the pan off the hob and running to the front door, pausing to flick her hair back over her shoulders and twitch the hem of her tee shirt up a little to reveal her navel piercing.

She opened the door.

It was Cassie, a vaguely amused look on her face.

"Cassie!" Carter said, trying not to sound disappointed.

"Hi," Cassie replied, "Is Jack in?" she asked, peering over Carter's shoulder.

"No...Why should he be?"

Cassie almost looked guilty. "No reason."

"Does it have anything to do with him coming around to see you and then you not telling me?" Carter enquired in an accusatory tone.

Cassie remained unabashed. "So you have seen him then?"

"Yes."

Cassie managed to keep the question of her lips but it was obvious from the expression on her face alone. And?

Carter sighed, half amused and half exasperated. "Come inside." She shooed Cassie into the kitchen. "You want food?"

Cassie shook her head, sitting on a stool in Carter's kitchen which she herself had bought nearly five years ago and recovered. "I'm not leaving until you tell me everything."

"Everything?" Carter asked, coy.

Cassie was no fool. "Everything that you two said to each other. Have you sorted out what you're going to do? Go with him or stay here?"

Carter eyed her suspiciously. "Did he tell you everything when he came round to yours?"

Cassie gave this due consideration. "Most things. He trusts my judgement in said matters. Jack at least now views me like the adult I am," she said reproachfully.

"I treat you like an adult," Carter replied, shaking her head.

"So you should," Cassie said, grinning, "You look younger than me now."

The doorbell rang again just as Carter sat down again having seen Cassie out. Figuring she'd forgotten something Carter opened it again with a knowing grin. "Forgot-?" she began.

Standing on her doorstep was a slightly sheepish Jack O'Neill clutching the biggest bunch of red roses she had ever seen. He thrust them at her, the gesture more like he was handing her some clips of ammo rather than romantic, but heartfelt all the same. There was a part of their relationship that would always be tainted by their military background. Slightly hesitantly he leaned forward and kissed her swiftly.

"Thanks," she said when they broke apart, touched. "You want to come in?"

He had his hands in his pockets, his classic pose. "You wanna come out?" he asked, "See a movie?"

"Yeah," she said. "I'd love to. Come in for a moment and I'll just get some stuff together."

He stepped inside and she shut the door. "Be five minutes," she said.

In actuality she was ten, because finding the right underwear and changing hastily into it before redressing in the same casual clothes took five minutes and then she had to find her purse and pack a suitable bag.

He was nosing through her copy of the TV Guide when she came back downstairs.

"What film?" she asked.

He shrugged, knowing he wouldn't be watching it whatever it was. "You can choose."

It took twenty minutes to drive to the cinema complex. There were several films on that she wanted to watch and she spent another five minutes debating which one to buy tickets for, by which time he had returned to her bearing popcorn.

They settled into their seats in the auditorium, sharing the popcorn. His hand had found its way towards hers and now he gripped her fingers lightly.

"Sam?" he asked, and she suppressed an involuntary shiver as he whispered her name.

"Jack?" she replied.

"Are we....um... dating?" he said, trying and failing to think of a better word.

"I dunno," she replied. "Are we?"

He appeared to think for a moment. "Sam?"

"Yes?"

"Will you go out with me?"

Now she appeared to consider something. "Yes."

"Then we're dating."

"Yes."

"Good." He kissed her again as the film began rolling.


	10. Goodbye and Hello

_I hate work. I hate work. I hate work. I hate work._

She was working out expenses, something she always loathed. The SGC was a veritable drain of funds and she was currently trying to track down the whereabouts of several thousand dollars that had apparently being spent without her authorisation. On what, she had yet to identify.

Her 'phone rang. The big red one that she was still ridiculously proud of owning. The one with the President on speed dial.

"General Carter," she said firmly into the receiver.

"God, you sound sexy when you say that."

Jack. Only Jack would dare say that, even if it was in a joking tone. "How did you get this number?" she demanded, half-amused, half-angry.

"I remembered it. From when I had the big red 'phone. I was wondering... dinner round mine tonight?"

She considered shouting at him for a moment, for disturbing her when she was working on something so important, but decided against it. "What time?"

"When you finish work," he said.

"Ok. Bye."

"Bye."

There was a pause. She realised he wasn't going to hang up before she did. Irritated with herself she slammed the 'phone down.

_I hate work. I hate work. I hate work. I hate work._

She was half-way through totalling the expenses when the 'phone went again.

"General Carter."

"Do you want Chinese or Thai?"

"Jack!" she hissed, losing her temper this time, "_I _am at work. I would appreciate it if you could leave me to get on with things."

"Sorry," he said, slightly gruffly.

She sighed. "No, it's me. I'm ratty because I'm working on expenses. Chinese. I'll see you at sixish. Ok?"

O'Neill knew when not to push his luck. "Ok. See you at six."

"Ish," she reminded him.

"Ish," he repeated.

"Bye."

"Bye."

_I hate work. I hate work. I hate work. I hate work._

The 'phone rang again. She eyed it with suspicion. "General Carter," she said, picking it up on the third ring.

"General, this is Captain Green, we've got a bit of a situation here..."

* * *

"I'm sorry," she apologised, as he opened the door. "There was a bit of an emergency."

He looked angry. She couldn't exactly blame him, but she expected him to at least understand. He'd done the job before her, after all.

He sighed. "I know what its like. I can re-warm the food."

She stepped inside, glad he wasn't going to force the issue. There was a candle on the dining room table, which was laid for two, burnt to nearly a stub.

She checked her watch. Half past eight. Ouch. She sat down in her place and waited for him to finish fussing with the microwave.

He came in, the two plates balanced precariously. She took her own meal from him before it slipped onto the floor, wondering if his uncharacteristic silence had any other cause than her late arrival. He sat opposite her and started to pick at his food. She followed suite. It was a good meal, making her regret being late even more.

"I invited you round because I've got something to tell you," he said at last, his voice unusually grave.

She felt her stomach contract. "What?" she asked, trying and failing not to sound panic-stricken.

"You're not going to like it." He was studying his plate very carefully, not meeting her eyes.

She tried to keep her tone light. "Jack, you're scaring me. Whatever you've got to say, say it. Don't leave me in suspense."

He sighed. "I'm going away. For three months. With Thor. On a mission." Every detail seemed forced, as if he mentioned them only to see when and what her reaction was going to be.

She let out the breath she had been holding in one long exhalation. "A dangerous mission?" she asked, feeling relieved. For a moment she had feared he was going to-

"Probably."

"Three months, huh?"

He met her eyes at last. "I know."

They'd only been dating four weeks and things were already getting complicated.

"Can't you say no?"she suggested, immediately regretting it as a dark look flashed across his face.

"No."

"I didn't think you'd be able to. We owe Thor as it is," she replied miserably.

He started to chase some of the rice on his plate around with his fork. "I just wanted to say... before I go. We've only been dating a month and if you meet someone or something. Or if I don't come back-"

"Jack," she said, slightly disbelieving, "I'm not going anywhere."

Some of the trouble in his eyes dissipated. "I'm leaving tomorrow," he confessed.

She nodded, suddenly not feeling very hungry anymore. "Be careful?" she asked, her eyes overbright.

He stood up, his chair nearly falling over, and enveloped her in a hug. "Of course. The same applies to you."

She let him hold her, enjoying his embrace. Their lips met briefly and then he pulled away, looking her in the eyes again, apparently reassured by the measured calm that had returned in them.

"I have a desk job. What could possibly happen to me?"

He shook his head, eyes closing for a moment. "I don't want to think about it."

She sighed. "This is such nice food."

"It's a shame you've lost your appetite," he supplied, smiling faintly.

She chuckled. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too," he said, a catch in his voice. She kissed him again, awakening something other than misery that became palpable in his eyes. She nodded, acquiescing his unspoken request gratefully. His faint smile broadened.

She took his hand as he lead her upstairs, to say their goodbyes.

* * *

It was time. She'd put off the chore for as long as possible, somehow stupidly hoping he'd be back to do it with her. Now she faced it alone, a more arduous task than it might have been.

The grass in the yard was getting close to knee height. She _had _to mow it.

There were daisies growing hither and thither, amongst the green of the overgrown grass. She settled down next to a clump of them, picking the long flowers and starting to make a chain of them; the skill learnt in childhood returning to her as she unselfconsciously sat, her mind elsewhere. The daisy chain grew longer in her hands.

Eventually she put the flowers down and mowed the lawn in vertical stripes, the way she always did at home. Then she rooted through the flowerbeds, pulling up weeds here and there. Carter had always enjoyed gardening, especially as she had grown older and gardening had become an activity traditionally associated with her age group. Her own flowerbeds were currently blooming in riotous colours, well ordered and organised, with no weed daring to show its leaves above ground.

O'Neill on the other hand, knew nothing about plants. It showed in the state of his yard. The previous owners of the home had left some plants behind; the borders were now so overgrown with the remains that she went into his garage for some secateurs to do some pruning.

The afternoon wore on, the summer sun tracking steadily across the sky to change the shape and length of the shadows in the garden. Carter found herself humming, singing to herself quietly as she pottered about; taking cuttings, repotting constricted plants, snipping dead-heads from the hydrangeas.

She went inside to get a drink, a streak of mud across her forehead where she had wiped beads of perspiration with a dirty hand. She was pouring some juice into a glass when a noise made her turn around sharply, every muscle tensed.

Picking up the nearest kitchen knife she crept out of the kitchen, padding silently towards the living room, the source of the noise. She pushed open the door, readjusting her grip, preparing for the worst...

She dropped the knife, her hand trembling. "Jack?"

He had obviously been dozing on the sofa, had woken up and shifted position, knocking over something on the table near his head and alerting her to another presence in the home. He jerked awake and upright in an instant.

"I didn't know you were here," he said, grim-faced and almost guilty.

"You didn't notice the door was unlocked?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I didn't come in through the front door."

She felt awkward, standing her now, and bent to retrieve the knife, feeling embarrassed. This wasn't the return she had imagined, or hoped for.

"Think I was an intruder?" he asked.

She smiled slightly. "Stupid I know, but-"

He stood up in one swift movement, crossing the distance between them in two long strides to take her face in his hands and kiss her.

Her own hands slid under his arms and around to the back of his neck, but he winced and pulled away. "Bruised ribs," he explained, pulling at the hem of his shirt to show her.

She gasped in shock and sympathy at the canary yellow marks across his chest. He was skinnier than she remembered, his hair shorn very short. There was a strange, sickened look in his eyes as well, one she remembered vaguely from many years ago.

She touched his face rather than his body, stroking his cheek with her thumbs and staring deeply into his troubled eyes. "What happened?" she breathed.

He looked away, unwilling to answer, and she didn't press him for anymore information. She kissed him again. "I'm so glad you're okay."

His hold was almost painfully tight on her arms. "I thought I'd lost you." His voice seemed to be cracking; if she didn't know him so well she might have thought he was crying.

"Why?" she asked gently, rocking him gently as she would a small child in distress.

"Doesn't matter," he sniffed, and as he drew away again she was dismayed to see a single tear tracing a path across his cheek. She brushed it away, wondering what the hell could have happened to reduce him to such a state.

He took a deep breath. "I stink," he said flatly. "I need a shower."

She smiled wryly. "I'm not exactly fresh as a daisy."

"You were doing my gardening?"he said, a glimmer of amusement at last escaping his eyes.

She just smiled in reply and he took her hand, his long fingers intertwining with hers. If his ribs had been up to it he would have picked her up at that moment and carried her to his shower; fully dressed or not. Instead, he kissed her again; the taint of salt tangible on his lips as his mouth left hers to brush her neck and shoulders.


End file.
